Serendipity
by Datura Writii
Summary: A sequel to Forgotten Portrait. Garry has not aged while sleeping in the Fabricated World while Ib has grown and thrived in the real one. When she returns to the Gallery, she is once again dragged down in the Abyss of the Deep into the world of Guertena, where she is reunited with her forgotten friend of the past. Romance blooms and so does fear. Complete.
1. Guertena

**Author's Notes **l _Serendipity is based on Ib, the RPG maker game. If anyone wants to know how to download it for free, just PM and I'd be more than happy to walk you through it. It's a bit of a hassle, but completely worth it. I've replayed it at least five times. Beautiful game; I've never been so inspired to write a fanfiction. No planning on this, I'm going to take the idea and run with it. Ib is older and Garry is the same age, since this is based off the Forgotten Portrait ending(spoiler: Garry is left in Fabricated World, sleeping) so there will be romance between them! I do not support little girl-I-don't-know-age man relations but they're such a cute couple and I love a good romance. Hope you enjoy!_

**_Poll_**_ **Notice** I have a poll on my profile that lets you vote for what fanfiction you want me to continue/submit/start. Also feel free to PM me requests._

**Disclaimer:** I do not kouri's Ib, their characters, or you. It would be nice if I did though...Muhahaha.

"Oh, Ib, I'm so excited that you're going back! I'd love to come with you…"

"Mother, you can't leave work just to come on a day trip with your daughter," I spoke, smiling. Mother was always eccentric, for better or worse. My good mood wilted when a reckless driver ran the stop sign to my left, cutting me off. I crushed the phone between my cheek and shoulder tighter, blocking the microphone before yelling choice words at the car's taillights. Apparently my birth giver still heard.

"Language!"

"Sorry, Mom…"

"No, no…I'm glad you're acting like all the other adults your age. We were really worried when you were a kid. Always so serious. We thought something was wrong with you!" She uttered a hysterical laugh.

"Thanks, Mother. Great to know you had confidence in me," I scoff.

"Well, Daddy and I hope you have a great time at the gallery." I heard my father saying "I love you" in the background before the line went dead. A small grin remained on my lips from their sweetness until I got to the city and all my concentration went into trying not to die from stupid drivers.

"I swear they get worse and worse," I muttered sourly. "No!" My fretting turned to a groan as the red and blue lights flashed in my mirrors. It took three blocks before I could find a place to pull over. I prepared to cry at a moment's notice as the policeman languidly strolled up the side of my little car.

"Do you know why I pulled you over today, ma'am?"

"No, sir," my voice went high and innocent, just like it was supposed to. _Please no ticket, please no ticket._

"You were going past the speed limit. Thirty-six, tsk." My eyes flicked to the nearest speed limit sign. Thirty-five. "License and registration, please." When I leaned over to grab into the glove compartment, I felt his eyes burning into my back. My hand shook slightly as it passed over the papers. "Eighteen? You look a lot older."

"I'm told that often," I said automatically. It was true.

"Everything looks in order…Miss Ib." He pronounced my name wrong. My lips curled downward of their own accord. "I'll forget this whole thing if you go to dinner with me." Suddenly the cocky grin and leaning on my poor cherry red car made sense. My stomach dropped. Nothing would ever prepare me for this moment, no matter how many talks my mother gave me. I was antisocial, and I was not ready to go off with some policeman and make babies and grow old together and— "Is that a yes?"

"Um, I'm meeting my parents for dinner tonight," I stuttered, saying the first white lie that came to mind. I would be meeting them for dinner sometime, perhaps just not tonight. "Sorry." I took the papers from his proffered hand, careful not to touch him.

"Call me when you're free." He wrote his number down and slipped it under my windshield wiper before slinking away to his motorcycle and driving past.

My first thought was, _That is never going to happen_. My second was, _Crap, he knows my info._

_X_

Guertena. The great artist himself. I sipped my coffee excitedly, standing at the gallery. My memory was foggy of my last visit; I couldn't remember much. That was for the best, as everything would seem new. I stepped into the world of Guertena through the double glass doors.

The_ Abyss of the Deep _greeted me first thing with wide jaws. I nearly screamed in pure joy at the paintings lining the wall. Something about this gallery was amazing. My parents had never understood my fascination with it in my later years. They'd told me I hadn't seemed very interested at all when I was nine.

I worked my way around the first stark room, reminiscing in _Bitter Fruit_, _Your Dark Figure_, _The Lady in Red_. For some reason, I thought she should have been wearing some other color. Shaking the feeling off, I continued on into the next room.

_Forgotten Portrait_. My mother told me about this one. Apparently she'd found me staring at it listlessly before we left that long time ago. It seemed familiar, yes, but also wrong. I checked the golden plaque below it again.

"What?" I asked the cold metal. It wasn't the same color as the others as I'd expected. It was not gold at all, but silver. Forgotten Portrait. The letters were engraved in blue. The screws were the same color. I stole a quick glance around to confirm I was alone (the gallery wasn't very crowded today, anyway) before sticking a manicured nail into the little slot of one screw and twisting.

My red polish chipped slightly, but soon four little blue nails were in one hand and the small nameplate was in the other. _The Hanged Man_. It was in gold, just like the others. A cold shiver ran down my spine. I dismissed it and hurried out of the room, wincing at each sound my ruby heels made as they hit the perfect marble floor.

I knew _Embodiment of the Soul_ would be my favorite, as I'd Googled Gurtena's most known works before coming, but I never would have imagined how impossibly beautiful it would be. The rose was so perfect, the stem so delicate. I resolved to buy a rose once I got to my apartment tonight as a reminder.

"Hello," I whistled low as I happened upon the room dedicated entirely to _Fabricated World_. It was humongous and carried with it a heavy weight, but the scribbling on the canvas made no sense.

"Stand back." The voice came from nowhere.

"Hello?"

"Look at it from afar." It was but a mere whisper. I checked around. No one was around.

"Who are you?"

"You'll see what I mean!" The whisper became playful, taunting. Eerie. Despite how unreliable it sounded, I did as I was told. Small aspects of the painting came into focus; a rose, something akin to _The Lady in Red_, and some kind of dress with a golden cape. I took another step back to see even more, but I slipped and landed on my butt painfully. Looking down to see what'd tripped me, I saw a small puddle of blue…paint. The back and heel of my shoes were stained sapphire, which clashed harshly against the ruby.

"Come, Ib." The voice became louder gradually, sounding as if it came from an old fashioned gramophone. "Come, Ib. Come, Ib. Come, Ib."

"Who are you?" I yelled above the voice in terror. It was deafening, but the same exact way of saying. She, I'd determined it was a female voice, wasn't screaming. Just horribly loud. It was a recording.

"Come, Ib. Come, Ib. Come, Ib." The words became meaningless. "Come, Ib. Come, Ib."

"Come play."

There was the skip hiss of a needle leaping off a record.

The lights shut off.


	2. Fabricated World

******_Poll_**_ **Notice** __I have a poll on my profile that lets you vote for what fanfiction you want me to continue/submit/start. Also feel free to PM me requests._

**Disclaimer:** I do not kouri's Ib, their characters, or you. Someday...

"Hello," I croaked, like any other girl in a cheesy horror movie, about to get hacked to death. I couldn't help it. My heels still made clacks on the floor, but were now ominous in the empty museum. Even the reception desk was devoid of a soul. It was hard to see anything in the near pitch darkness of the building. It was raining today, and dark clouds blocked the sunlight from filtering in through the occasional window. I couldn't see the city outside, only clouds and rain.

From the corner of my eye, I caught something move. My neck craned to locate it, but everything was still. From behind me, there came a meow. There wasn't anything to be seen in the corner, but I felt glowing orbs watching me. Stifling a sob, I rushed to the first room to try the doors. Something told me they were locked, but I had to try. There was no other option at this point.

I never got to them. My foot fell into the badly placed A_byss of the Deep_ on the floor, followed by my leg, waist, shoulders, head. My scream was muffled my thick, viscous paint.

Soon my falling toes hit something mushy, but a little more solid than the paint all around me, somehow leaving me air to breath. I wouldn't question it. The gelatinous surface gave way, leaving me standing on something even more solid than the last. I stepped down blindly through the midnight liquid, where another piece of gel, harder than the last, met my shoe.

Stairs.

Down and down I descended, until my heels once again clicked on pure, strong material. There was a long, endless hallway before me. Nothing behind. I started walking.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. I debated whether or not the heels had to come off. Above the question of where I was stood the question of if the noise was keeping me sane or about to push my mind off the insanity cliff.

Distantly, deep, foreboding music began to play. It leaked through the walls, quiet and full of premonition. I preferred when it was just my steps. The bad horror movie analogy sprung into my thoughts once again as I continued strolling down the corridor.

While I was walking, the red of the corridor slowly turned purple, then blue. When the blue was about as purely, well, blue as it could get, my toes hit carpet. I nearly stumbled before regaining my wits along with my balance.

_Garry_. The name popped into my mind, covered in dust from a long, long time in my past. With it came grief. Crushing sadness that crippled me and buckled my knees.

I didn't understand.

Here I was, confused and heartbroken at a thought in a strange hallway in a strange world that was strangely familiar. Even the ominous song assaulting my ears had a note of naturalness to it. I turned around, lost, to see that the hallway I'd been walking for what seemed like hours ended a few feet away from me.

"Where am I?" I voiced my despair, letting even more of the emotion build and bubble in my mind. _I want to go home_. Once again my body swirled to face forward, suddenly set on leaving this place. There was only one way; onward.

You came back.

The words splayed and splattered on the floor, blue like the skin of the doll sitting at my feet. I screamed as its smile grew wider. It laughed. The words warped and changed.

You're my new friend now. Let's play.

"No!" I kicked it, at wits end. The bulbous head flew off in a brilliant display of what I hoped and prayed to dear God was red paint. "Leave me alone!" My legs started pumping before the rest of my body could catch up. The result was a stumble and a break in the sprint, but somehow I found the strength to keep going and leave the murder scene behind me.

Come.

Ib.

The words flashed in my peripheral. I debated the logic in following the instructions, but there was no way I was returning from whence I came. My head flew back to confirm there were no other helpful hints on the walls, like how to get out of here.

I hit something hard and tripped, flying into the air. The coarse carpet caught me, but nothing stopped the porcelain shards digging into my left forearm. My lips curled into a silent scream at the sight of surreal blood dripping from the wounds. Piece by piece, I yanked the ceramic from my arm with shaking fingers, wincing at each sharp tug before dropping the bloodstained intrusions with their shattered brothers on the floor.

Apparently I'd hit a low table that was placed in the middle of the hallway, now tumbled to the side somewhere, and fell on a vase. Water sloshed and mixed with the carpet to create a disgusting, spongy mush under my curled body as I took deep, calming breaths. When I opened my eyes, the corridor was still blue. My dress and shoes were still red. My forearm was still weeping blood. I took my black scarf and wrapped it around the majority of slices, tying it with my teeth.

Can I have this?

Oh God. Oh my dear Lord.

The doll was back. It was just a head, stained in ichor with a single, red rose in its sewn mouth. I didn't stop to question of how that happened. The rose was perfect; or what was left of it. Two petals began to wilt on the floor, and the others began to droop at an alarming rate. My own body began to feel tired, as if it was wilting as well.

I thrust my arm at the doll, grabbing the rose before withdrawing as quickly as possible. My foot shot out and slammed into the head once again, this time rolling it far, far away from me. I could have sworn I heard a giggle.

My hand was still gripping the rose. It unclenched hesitantly to reveal angry, deep wounds from the thorns wound about the perfect stem. The flower seemed to have stopped wilting, but it still appeared sickly. I felt ill, too.

"Okay, rose, it's just you and me now." My legs were shaky as a colt's as I attempted to stand, using the wall for physical, and let's admit it, moral support. "Let's go."

The hallway was just as long as before the vase incident. I made sure to keep my eyes glued forward and to keep a slow, steady, _safe_ pace. The time went by achingly slow and soon I felt my eyes begin to grow heavy.

I saw another vase.

This time it was positioned at the side of the wall, and was a light blue. Full of water. "Here you go." The rose dropped softly into the vase, washing itself of my grubby blood from its lovely leaves and stem. The water turned pink.

Almost instantly I began to feel better. As the rose turned a fuller red, my body felt less like it'd been hit by a train. Its petals upturned to mirror my lips. "Oh, you're coming with me." I plucked it from the vase once its startling transformation completed, half afraid it would revert to being half dead. It didn't.

"Hey!" I nearly stepped on a little black speck. The human voice was so welcome it didn't matter that it came from an ant.

"I'm sorry."

"Can I ride with you? I want to see my painting again."

"Again? Does that mean its close?" The hallway must've been ending soon. An ant wouldn't be able to live through a long trip and back.

"I don't know. It's where you left it!"

"You must have me confused," I frowned at the insect crawling up my offered finger. The other hand was occupied at pinching the rose's stem between thorns to avoid being cut again. I could hear a very audible, very gruff sigh.

"Nice to see you again, too."

We, rather, I walked in silence until a white dot appeared in the distance. I started jogging, full of excitement of a break from the boring blue square caging me in for so long. It felt like an eternity.

The ant's painting wasn't much. Just three circles and a few legs. The angle wasn't even interesting. I couldn't help but be disappointed.

"Well, here it is."

"I'm glad it's not squashed anymore." I debated asking, but decided against it. Just not worth it. "Here's something for your trouble." The tickle of little legs was antecedent to the feeling of a little weight pressed into the direct middle of my palm. Then the ant hopped the short distance to his painting, where he seemed to merge into the black paint.

"Thank you," I said to empty air. The tiny little sphere in my hand was blue, just like everything else I'd seen for a while. It almost looked like a rock. "Thanks so much," I repeated with more sarcasm. I started walking again after shoving it in my coat pocket.

Wood met my shins and I stumbled.

"God damn it, move this table!" I hollered before bringing my foot down hard on the table that kept following me around. Another vase was broken. Another time I hit the floor after slipping on the water it spilled. I may have had a little tantrum. Right there on the floor.

"Just let me out," I begged the ceiling. It didn't respond.

I let the top half of my heavy body hit the ground, uncaring of how wet and mushy it was. Sleep hit me unforgivingly.


	3. Garry

******_Poll_**_ **Notice**__ I have a poll on my profile that lets you vote for what fanfiction you want me to continue/submit/start. Also feel free to PM me requests._

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Ib, kouri does. I do, however, own this story and the awesomeness that ensues. And, yes. Modesty is my thing.

When I woke, I didn't open my eyes. I shut them tighter, and wished against all hope that when I let myself see the world, it wouldn't be blue.

It was blue.

"Of course," I mumbled, mood sourer than ever. My arms gave way on my first attempt at getting on my feet, and weren't much more helpful the second time. On the third try, I managed to get upright before sneezing. "Of course I would have a cold. Serves me right for sleeping in a mushy puddle of water." I slammed my hand down on the surface of the puddle still surrounding me, causing a little, unsatisfying splash.

My attention was drawn to the clicking to my right. The four little blue screws I had unknowingly thrust into my pocket in the museum. It all seemed like a dream now. I picked them up and put them in my jacket once again, compulsively checking the other pocket. No stone.

"Aw come on, I worked hard for that stupid pebble!" My eyes roved the soaked floor until happening upon the blue rose growing strong and healthy to my left, thriving in the water. My sluggish, sleepy mind struggled to come up with the connection it knew was there.

"It was a seed!" The rose complied with my wish to pluck it. It left no mark on the carpet, and had no roots. "Magic rose seeds. Okay." I put them next to each other. "Now I have two roses." The blue rose had a few more petals than the red, looked fuller, and had a longer stem. I still preferred the red.

"Do I collect them? Is that how I get out?" I asked the ceiling once again. Once again, no reply. I made a mental note to ask the floor next time.

I started walking again.

Thick green vines began to encroach on the blue walls. Soon there was none of the bright color left, only thick green. The tile began once again, a charcoal gray that made my aching feet wish for carpet again sorely. Further and further, and soon little yellow buds appeared, before they bloomed into vibrant, sunshine colored roses all about. The overgrowth was gorgeous.

I thought of my realization before and tried to pluck a yellow rose to add to my collection. The thorns actually moved to make sure I stabbed myself as many times as humanly, and apparently nonhumanly possible.

"Fine!" Blood welled up at my fingertips for what seemed like the tenth time today. I gripped my well-behaved roses to my chest and walked on.

There was a groan.

I stared at the body crouched on the wall, half consumed by vines and opposite a golden frame that was ensnared completely in the vegetation.

It moved.

I stared.

Its pale haired head rose, slowly, as if in a dream, to reveal a single dark blue eye; the other was covered with longish lavender locks. It stared back, half lidded, devoid of anything for a few stretched out moments. His eye was empty, with no shine to it. I readied myself to run away in case he was a mannequin or doll or some other horror. But that one little part in me waited, wished that he was real.

His eye grew wide and sparkling intelligence, understanding flooded into it.

"Ib? Is that you?"

My jaw went slack, my mouth formed a round little circle in surprise.

"How do you know my name?" The man, who'd been unsteadily lifting himself to his feet, withdrew as if I'd slapped him instead of answering his question with another. Yes, it was vague and annoying, but not physically abusive.

"I-Ib…It's me. Garry."

"Garry?" The name that kept flitting into my mind. My little revelation was cut short when Garry, apparently, stood to his full height. His very tall, full, intimidating height. I was maybe level to his chest. If I stood on my toes, in heels. Maybe.

"Ha," his short bark of a laugh drew me from my flustered musings. "You haven't grown much at all, Ib." His attempt at playfully lightening the mood wasn't the best idea.

"Who are you?" I spat, on defense.

"You have to remember me…You got out, right? This whole experience was terrifying…How a nine year old just forget…all of what happened…" Suddenly he jolted, panic alighting in his eyes. "Ib, what are you doing here?! Where's Mary?" His spidery hands grabbed my shoulders, catching me off guard.

"Mary?" I tried to take a step back, but his long fingers kept me firmly in place. His head whipped left and right, looking for the girl called Mary, I assumed. He smelled like those little lemon hard candies I enjoyed as a child.

Candies I started liking at nine.

"This place looks so different," Garry was still glancing around, his blue gaze roving every inch of vine covered hallway. Finally his eye settled on a yellow rose. "My rose," he gasped, seemingly on a roll with little realizations. "How am I still alive?" He gasped as if he honestly thought there was no oxygen in the room. It was slightly amusing to watch the towering man flounder about.

"Is it blue?"

"Of course it is!" He exclaimed before instantly calming when I offered the flower still clutched in my fingers. "I thought Mary ripped all the petals off…" He gustily sighed with massive relief.

"It grew from a seed I was given. What's the connection with the roses? If we collect them, can we get out? Is this all some sort of sick game?" Garry peered down from me in slight…despair? Disappointment?

"It is a sick game, but…The roses are our life force in this…If you lose it or it wilts, you too will wither…"

"Then how do we get out?" Questions kept spilling from my mouth before I could dwell too long on how many times I had carelessly handled my rose. My hand automatically squeezed around my left palm. A pang of horror dropped my stomach low and I nearly threw up.

"Just keep walking…Ib, what's wrong?"

My gaze shot down to my empty hand. "My rose is gone."

"Ib…" I whirled on the ball of a foot to follow my new companion's gaze over my shoulder in time to see a little black rat's nest of a head pop out from behind a corner. A flash of red hung in its mouth.

"God damn it, you little creep!" It giggled, a carnal sound that was high pitched and grisly. It disappeared behind the vines obscuring my vision as I sprinted towards it, swinging precariously on my heels. At some point I managed to kick them off, leaving my stockinged feet to bear the tile of the floor. I nearly careened into the wall as I slid past the corner, catching a flailing Garry in my peripheral.

I forged on, uncaring of anything but smashing the head of that thing in. Literally, my life was in its hands. Well, mouth.

The hall seemed to stretch until a door could be seen. The head rolled and bobbed faster until it sped through and the door slammed shut with such force I saw the frame shaking.

"Ib!"

His shout broke my reckless concentration. There was a better way to solve this. I tried to put on the brakes, but the tile was too slippery. The door didn't yield to me as easily as it did to the doll head. Actually, not at all. I hit the floor just as hard as the wood hit me. My breath was short and my muscles felt tired once again. The charcoal beneath me was welcoming. Sleeping would be so easy.

My trance continued as I became less and less aware of the man above me, throwing himself at the entrance. "Open up!" His voice sounded miles away. "This room…" I couldn't hear anymore. Only dull roaring filled my ears. The gray ceiling faded to black, the vines at the corners blending into oblivion. Distantly a clock chimed.

Dong.

Dong.

Dong.

It stopped. I closed my eyes. Time to rest.

I felt myself ascending.

"I've got you, Ib."

"I've got you."


	4. Corridors

******_Poll_**_ **Notice** __I have a poll on my profile that lets you vote for what fanfiction you want me to continue/submit/start. Also feel free to PM me requests._

**Disclaimer**: I do not own kouri's Ib or any characters. Maybe I will own you readers...Maybe...

My bittersweet friend, the ceiling, greeted me first thing when I awoke. A small groan wheezed itself out of my lungs as I struggled into a sitting position. Something tattered and navy fell to pool at my waist. A coat?

"You're awake." I peered upwards through the curtain of my bangs to see Garry towering above me like a friendly blue giant. His lips were curled into a smile and his hair flopped dog ear-like over his hidden eye. He wore a yellow tank top that reminded me once again of the little yellow candies I loved.

Another flash of yellow invaded my reminiscing. A yellow rose. Not the myriad on the walls of today, rather, yesterday, but a single one, too perfectly put together to be real. Mary's. My face sunk into my hands as my apparently lost memories filtered through the little cracks in the walls of my mind. They were frustratingly wedged somewhere, unknown to me. Only horror slipped through.

"Ib?"

"Why can't I remember?" My fingers were still concealing my visage. They were covered with something cotton and white, torn on one side and tied around the worst of my thorn cuts. A small stitched "Garry" was imprinted on a corner in periwinkle thread.

"I don't know." I was faintly aware of a body settling beside mine and the thin sound of a page being turned. About thirteen flips later I finally regained my footing on reality and crawled out of the little shell I'd made for myself. Refolding his coat, I glanced to the reading man next to me. He was slouched against the wall, his knee unknowingly touching my shin and his elbows stationed firmly beneath him. He appeared…comfortable despite all of what'd happened. At home.

He noticed me staring at him and offered another grin. I quickly looked away, caught.

"Thank you," I spoke up, handing him his clothing.

"No, thank you." His voice was so sincere I couldn't help but glance over again to see possibly the hugest puppy eyes I'd ever seen. "I was there, sleeping the whole time," he paused, stifling a hiccup before continuing, "but you came back. You got my rose back, Ib. I just…I just wish you could remember how close we were. What happened here."

Well. I took what he said the wrong way.

"W-wasn't I nine?" He nodded enthusiastically, unknowing of my growing horror. "Gah!"

"What?" He saw my reddening face and his own mirrored my aghast expression. "No! Not like that!"

X

We had been walking in an almost comfortable silence for the last twenty or so of Guertena's paintings without disruption in the wide gray corridors. The pictures in golden frames lining the halls, however, were disturbances themselves. They were of the same pale man, over and over, crying thick drops of blood. He'd begin with a smile, and with each notch downward of his lips, a new trail would leak from his eyes.

Then he would start happy all over again.

"How long does this last?" My quiet outburst echoed in front of us, turning into a whisper before disappearing completely down the darkened hall.

"Last time the world kept us busy so we didn't have to think too hard about the fact we were stuck down here…" said Garry miserably. The rose pinned to his ragged lapel was starting to droop with his exhaustion, as was mine. Almost as if by magic, two vases on a low wooden table appeared after the next few steps.

"That was convenient," I chirped, dropping my rose into the urn on the right. Garry, knowing this world better than that, paused.

And for good reason.

"Ah!" I felt a sharp pang in my chest as a petal ripped itself free of my red flower. My hand flew out to snatch the bloom out of the liquid inside instinctively. The stem dripped blood.

"Ib?" My companion was at my side in an instant.

"I'm okay," I hissed out, glaring frosty daggers at the porcelain in front of me. Only my last run-in with the vase stopped the sweet plans of revenge formulating in my mind.

We continued on.

After what seemed like eternity, we entered a commodious, high-ceilinged room; the first non-hall I'd actually been in since the gallery. The dolls refused me entrance into theirs, and Garry had carried me to a small, conveniently placed nook with a bookshelf.

A sizeable stage sat in the middle of the room, encompassed by the ropes placed in front of statues to keep visitors from leaving their grubby handprints all over the sculptures. Past the velvet ropes were three doors, each commanding a certain…dread within me. There was no telling what was behind each.

One door was green, the other orange, the last, purple. The green and orange were to the right, the purple to the left. There was a mirror to the wall opposite us, exactly in line with the hall we'd come from. I whirled on a heel to ensure there was nothing we had missed, like a creepy doll bargaining a way to get us out, but there was nothing but another smooth wall.

"Garry," I said, fear causing my voice to wobble. My hand found his against my will.

"There's always only one way…Forward." Despite his strong words, his hand trembled. "Let's go, yeah?" He beamed down at me and gently pulled me forward to stand at the stage to inspect it.

I caught our reflection in the mirror.

Garry was tall, lanky, his frame swallowed by the dark coat draped about him. His eyes shone blue up close, but were too dark to see from far away. In the mirror they simply appeared black. I couldn't decide if his hair was white or lavender; the lighting in Fabricated World was too odd for anything to be certain. The top of his head where the hair was darker was cut off in the mirror due to his height.

I, in contrast, was short, even shorter now without my heels. My arm was hooked with his; I hadn't noticed when it happened. My dress was still intact, thankfully, but my jacket had been shredded at the edges at one point, and one sleeve was missing entirely to bare my left arm, still encased in the black scarf that held back the savage wounds staining the skin there, much like Garry's white handkerchief that hid the stinging slices in my hands. My once waved hair had dropped the curls I put in it this morning, or last morning; I'd lost track of time completely. Now it hung pin straight as always.

"There doesn't seem to be a key or switch here. May as well check a door. Preferences?" I dropped his arm and stalked to the farthest left door; the green one. The handle curled in the shape of the guard of a rapier thrust into the painted wood. My heart was in my throat as I turned the copper material.

"It opened," I exclaimed in shock as it creaked, allowing us to gain entrance. From within the room echoed more haunting music that seeped from the walls. "Here goes." I gathered the courage to take a step as I felt Garry's soothing presence behind me. The nerve melted away as I saw what the room contained; a single painting.

It was a painting of an angelic blond girl in an emerald dress, smiling sweetly, bordered in yellow roses. Her arms were behind her back and her legs stood above a body.

A dead body.

Garry's body.

The man behind me drew in a sharp breath. "Eerie."

"That is an understatement. A huge, huge understatement." We left the room in a hurry, slamming the door behind us.

Garry opened the orange door, as I was too afraid of what was behind it. He was terrified, too.

"Oh, Ib, don't look." It was too late. The girl was there again, posing with a knife clutched in delicate hands, much like the delicate child caught by the neck in the crook of her arm. The child had wide, teary red eyes and was clawing even redder marks into the girl's pale arm. The girl still smiled, her blue eyes serene.

Before us, the canvas curled like drying paper before resettling to press flat against the wall once again. The blond girl hadn't changed, but the child had grown into an adult with a defeated look, her hands hanging limply at her torn sides. A thin slice of red bore into her throat.


	5. Abandons

******_Poll_**_ **Notice** __I have a poll on my profile that lets you vote for what fanfiction you want me to continue/submit/start. Also feel free to PM me requests._

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Ib, kouri does. I don't own y'all either. But one day I'll have it all!

"Let's go." Garry's arms ushered me out of the room.

"Garry…I don't really want to see what's behind the purple door," I admitted truthfully. We stood before it, arm in bandaged arm. The violet paint stood the darkest of the three doors by far. If the past two doors were a premonition enough, that should have been the last warning. "But," I interrupted Garry as his lips opened. "I suppose there really is only one way, isn't there?"

"There really is. It can't be worse than last time, I'm sure. Shall we?"

I nodded.

Garry placed his hand on the golden knob and twisted.

X

How did it all happen?

The thought ran through my mind as Garry and I ran down the purple painted halls, chased by freakish monsters. The Individuals, I thought he called them. They made odd roaring noises from invisible mouths; their heads were missing. Their skin was black and they wore pretty dresses of red, blue, yellow.

I squeaked as a blue version of The Lady in Red hung on the wall shook once, then burst into life to my right, cutting off our path. Without pause, Garry scooped me up by the back of the knees and shoulders awkwardly. With the lessened width of our group, he could slide past the portrait that was dragging herself forward on sharp, manicured nails. My toes brushed the walls as he avoided her, but I was too occupied being shocked at the distance I was from the ground.

The Lady in…Blue hissed and growled at our backs along with the roaring statuettes a few inches behind her. Garry continued sprinting with gusto, causing his chest to rise, hitch, deflate in an unsteady rhythm. Caught up in his mad dash, it was all I could do to clutch his jacket to stay in his arms and not be bounced off.

Finally, the door was close enough to touch. I reached across Garry's forearm to throw the exit open so he didn't have to pause his dash.

The Lady screeched horribly after we slammed the wood into its closed position. Her nails scratched against it, marked sparsely with the banging of many fists against it. But the door held.

"Garry…"

"Yeah?"

"You can let go of me now."

"Sorry!"

After brushing my sore butt off from being dropped in Garry's embarrassed panic, I looked around in wonder to survey the next room. It was much, much smaller than the last. Nearly closet size.

Gentle music leeched through the violet walls, almost cheerfully. It was a welcome break from the wheezy organ-like sound of the haunting melody of the rest of the gallery.

In a silver frame rested a painting that finally shook loose some of my memories.

It was of the same girl in the orange room, standing beside Garry, both their faces solemn. There was a streak of shine painted on the canvas, as if it was meant to represent a scene from a window.

Or a mirror.

The little flashback struck me, rendering my senses useless for a moment.

Garry and I stood, catching our breaths after a run from the monsters of Guertena's creations. We had stared in the mirror, as it was the only thing in the gray room. Soon after there was a mannequin head blocking the door. Returning to the mirror to find the head had followed us was the only thing to do. Garry kicked it and shattered the porcelain.

"It's of us from the last time I was here…"

"You remember?"

"Just a little…" I glanced up at Garry, who was beaming sweetly down on me. I turned back to the mirror painting to hide the red I felt on my cheeks. Something caught my attention. "There's nothing but that door we came from and this painting here. How…how are we to continue?"

Garry's shoulders stiffened as we both became aware of the knocking and scratching upon the door again. "We must have missed something in the other room. That's how this works. We should have found a key…or something we missed about the stage…" His long legs began to pace the cramped space, making me move against the wall to leave him room to muse.

His face drew up in thought as his hand crept seemingly of its own accord to his lapel.

"Garry?" My voice wavered, unlike his set eyes and still hand holding his blue bloom to me.

"Ib, keep it safe. I'm going back out. I hate to separate from you again, but…It's no use if we're both dead, right?" He attempted a weak smile, his usually ready-to-curl lips failing him. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't take his rose from him.

"No," I stuttered. "No, we'll go toge—"

"Ib." He folded my fingers around the thorny stem with gentle but stern sureness.

Before I could object, the door was open and closed in a small puff of cold breeze, and my blue companion was gone. My hand shook around the blue rose.

"Garry?" Echoes of a smaller, higher voice intruded into my mind. _Garry! Garry, we'll get your rose back!_ Tears stung my eyes. This had happened before. Only his rose wasn't full and beautiful in my hand, it was merely a stem and a single, shredded petal that wasn't even worth the title. And Garry wasn't walking away, no, he was against a wall, eyes closed and lips drawn down at the corners.

I'd left him there.

And it was his turn to leave me.

I stared back at the mirror painting, sickened. Then back at the flower in my hands. It was still unharmed. Garry was still safe.

For now.

I couldn't stand to look at the painting anymore. I tucked my dear friend's rose in the folds of my dress with its red counterpart and grasped the smooth frame on both sides, jerking it upwards and then slowly down before resting it, flipped over, against the wall.

There was writing on the back in spiky black lettering.

_In the green door lies your key._


	6. It's Not Going Away

******_Poll_**_ **Notice** __I have a poll on my profile that lets you vote for what fanfiction you want me to continue/submit/start. Also feel free to PM me requests._

**Disclaimer**: I do not own kouri, Ib, or their characters. Y'all are real characters, so I'll say I don't own you. But we all know I do.

When I pressed my ear against the smooth surface of the door, I could hear nothing except the almost tranquil dragging of the Lady pulling herself across the floor in a pace and the clicking of the Individual's heels further down the hall, quieter.

For the third time since seeing the message on the back of the canvas, I debated whether or not what I was about to do was really sane.

"No," I told myself sternly in a whisper, "He won't know to get the sword. He'll be looking for an actual key." With that I rested my forehead against the door, took a deep breath, and gently, unhurriedly turned the knob. The door creaked quietly, but didn't arouse the attention of the monsters pacing the hall in uniform movements. When the Lady in Blue and Yellow Individual were at the left wall, the Red Individual and Blue Individual were at the right. Then they switched. It was an oddly chilling spectacle, as if they were programmed.

My first step onto the tile and the Lady came at me. The Individuals kept to their patrolling a little ways down, unaware of the portrait's growling.

I leaped into action after freezing in slight fear, stealing to the left as she came directly at me. She whipped to catch me much faster than expected, and I was forced to backtrack. My shoulders hit the wall, along with the rest of my body a millisecond afterwards. Before I could react, the Lady had already slashed at me, slicing four shallow stripes across my abdomen.

The pain was what spurred me to dive right and sprint past the invisible line that marked the start of the Red Individual's domain. I nearly thought the Lady would stop chasing me after I crossed it, but she continued to pull herself hand over hand towards me at surprising speed.

While my neck was craned to study the Lady's movements, the Red individual made a grab for me. In reaction, I jumped away but hit the wall, rendering me breathless for a second. I couldn't catch my wind for more than a small moment before the monsters reached me. My legs pushed me forward in an unsteady, drunken gait before I got my bearings once again and blew past the Yellow and Blue individuals, trailed by the Lady and Red Individual.

The purple of my exit shined dully like a beacon surrounded by fog as I neared it thankfully. I could feel the Lady's breath on my heels as I burst through the door, leaning against it after slamming wood into frame. The monsters howled for perhaps a minute before returning to their marching across the halls, seemingly forgetting what had just happened.

Garry wasn't in the main room; he must've been in the orange and green room.

The scratches on my stomach began to sting; they weren't deep at all, but the breaks in skin still gleamed wetly through the clean slices in the wine fabric of my dress.

I took the moment to sit down on the stage in order to draw in a lungful of air, calm my frantic heartbeat, and check my rose. A red petal floated to the ground after being freed. That wasn't what made my heart drop to my toes.

It was the five or so blue ones that followed.

Clutching both in my left hand, I jogged to the green door and opened it, keeping my hand on the sword hilt that served as a knob. Garry wasn't within the green walls; only his lookalike lay at the feet of—I blinked, trying to fix my obviously failing vision.

No, it was true. The blond girl was absent from the canvas.

I slowly closed the door before twisting the knob the opposite way and pulling with my foot against the wall. Not only did the hilt come out, but the rest of the needlelike rapier came out as well, from nothing but the door. I tested the blade with an index finger to the tip; it held its own, not folding into itself like it must have done to fit into the door.

The sword bit me, drawing a small pinprick of blood. I cursed and swung my arm down in an arc, taking the blade as far away from me as possible while still taking hold of it.

When I made a move towards the orange door, one of my burgundy petals shook loose and hit the floor. I sighed.

One hand was occupied with the two roses while the other grasped the sword hilt until the knuckles shone white. I stowed our flowers back into my dress and eased open the door, sword at the ready.

The breath I didn't know I held came out in a gust of relief as I saw Garry, literally bent over backwards in order to survey each and every corner the room held, apparently the ceiling as well. The blond was missing from this room's painting as well. The other Ib was crying, her hand outstretched as if to touch the paper wall separating her from our world. Her neck was still slit.

I swallowed the chills crawling their way up my throat and placed my hand on Garry's inverted shoulder, careful to keep the blade of the sword away from him.

He flipped upwards in a panic, "Wh-wha!?" His roving eye spotted me and his fight-or-flight pose relaxed, his face alighting in happiness. "Oh, Ib." His face fell as his gaze traced down my arm, catching my stomach wound, before locking onto the sword. "You…You didn't go Mary, did you?" He stepped away cautiously, as if not to aggravate a beast with sharp claws and sharper teeth.

"No, it's the key," I exclaimed, slightly hurt. "On the back of the purple room canvas it said that the key was in the green door." I nodded to the canvas behind my tall companion's shoulder. "Where did the girl go?"

"The Marys? They're out walking around in the main room."

"I didn't see any."

He trotted past me, peering out the crack of the door. "I…I thought they were out there. Usually I'd be thrilled they aren't here anymore but…"

"It means they're somewhere else."

"Exactly." Garry gulped loudly and straightened, shoving his hands in his pockets. They searched instinctively before realizing there was no rose. I offered it to him, reminded of the petals it'd lost. I gave him a cursory glance to reveal his left pant leg was in tatters from the Lady as well, though she seemed to have done a better job on him. There were several nasty slashes crisscrossing thinner ones.

He turned and I gasped when his right side was revealed. His ragged jacket sleeve was barely hanging on by a thread, cut from the top part of his upper arm to expose an impossibly deep wound. It bled freely and stained the entirety of the rest of the fabric a glimmering, angry violet.

"Garry!"

He followed my gaze and offered me another smile. "Its fine, we'll just find a vase and it'll go away. Let's find where this key goes to. I bet it's the stage." We stepped out of the room, carefully inspecting the main room for psychotic blond girls. Speaking of which…

"Did a…Mary do that?"

"Yeah. That palette knife really does some damage…" Garry chuckled weakly. We arrived at the stage and checked around its perimeter, me frantically so. The sooner we could get to a vase…

"Found it!" There was a slit shaped keyhole that was the exact thickness of the rapier in the side of the stage. It was small, but there was no way we could've missed it in our first search. I frowned, but didn't question it. Nothing made sense in the Fabricated World. "Here goes…" I drove the rapier in and twisted.

The floor beneath me gave way. I fell for about two feet before landing harshly, once again, on my bottom. The floor continued dropping level by level before the stairs disappeared into darkness.

"Ib?!"

"I'm okay!" I tilted my chin up to see Garry's form outlined in the dim light that diffused throughout the main room.

"Scoot over, I'm coming down." I crawled to the edge and sidled onto the next step as Garry swung himself into the indent in the floor. The length from bottom to top was too deep to be a comfortable step, but too shallow to really pull the whole sit-on-the-edge-and-drop move. Well, for me it could work. For Garry taking them as real steps seemed the best way, albeit awkward. His left hand was held out for balance while his right hung limply at his side, making me grimace once again at the wound. "Ah, descending once again. Last time we kept going lower and lower until we went to this odd land of crayons and demented scribbles."

We continued down the uncomfortable stairs into almost complete darkness. I say almost because there was a pale omniscient light that followed us, only allowing enough visibility to see the last step, the current step, and the step before us. Garry fell into step in front of me, testing each step with his foot before continuing. He knew the world well.

Suddenly pink walls were around us. One second we were in gray darkness and the next we were stepping into the room. We swayed on our feet, looking around and catching our bearings.

"Odd." Garry nodded in agreement and smiled when he found what he was looking for; a vase. There weren't two like normal, but a steady drip came from a crack in the ceiling, filling it until it overflowed into a mini waterfall. "You first. The drip could stop at any time."

"You've got those scratches on your stomach though…"

"Garry, please," I insisted, sizing up his arm's wound again nervously. He sighed and placed his rose in the vase, after confirming it really did contain water. I could only see his left side, but sighed in relief when the scratches on his leg sped up in healing, almost as if fast forwarded in time. They became less angry and looked ready to scab over in perhaps a day.

The healing of the vase was odd. It made the pain go away, but the physical wounds didn't completely disappear, just mended themselves perhaps two days worth of rest. At least it was something. My own forearm was still ugly and spattered with slices of red, but they weren't weeping anymore. Now Garry would be okay.

My breath caught in my throat when I heard a curse escape him. My feet carried me around to his other side to see the still deep, still there cut embedded in his arm.

"It's not going away."


	7. Lemon Candies

**Fluff Notice:** _This chapter is mostly full of fluff, so feel free to skip to the end, right about at "'Together.'" Lemon references are for the candies he eats. Ahem._

**Poll Notice:**_ I have a poll on my profile that lets you vote for what fanfiction you want me to continue/submit/start. Also feel free to PM me requests._

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Ib, it belongs to kouri along with the characters. This story is mine and I will send the Ladies and Individuals that are not mine after you if you steal it.

I couldn't look at the slashed skin anymore. Nothing was healed, it still leaked burgundy, gushing slightly with each of his sped up heartbeats. His arm shook slightly, and soon his whole body was trembling.

What if he would die from blood loss? Would his rose still suffer? Why wasn't he healing?

My eyes started to water as they upturned to Garry's concerned face.

I didn't hug. Even as a child, I didn't hug. There was no cuddling, no sweet little grasping to my parents. I generally didn't like touching people, then and at my current age.

But right now it was too much. My arms weaved themselves under his and I gave him a big squeeze, uncaring of the slight increase of pain in my stomach and arms. After a moment of shock, Garry wound his unharmed hand around me and hugged back, lopsidedly. We stood there, embracing, until tears halted their tracks down my cheeks and Garry's breath regulated again.

"Hold still," I commanded, trying to reclaim control of my emotions along with the situation. I slicked my scarf off my forearm-briefly taking a look at the now slowly healing gashes in it-untied the knot in it with both hands now free, and rewrapped it around Garry's arm after dabbing the blood away with some vase water, making sure to tie it tightly enough to quell the bleeding.

I sniffled, wishing I still had that silk handkerchief I'd had when I was nine. I'd lost it long ago, much to my mother's grief. After wiping my eyes clear and ensuring that Garry's makeshift bandage was doing its job, I surveyed the pink room. Suddenly, my weak body began to feel better once again.

"Oh, thank you," I said in surprise as I glanced over at Garry, who still hung around the vase the red rose was dropped into. He nodded, reclaimed the rose, and returned it to me. Only then, when his face was nearest to me than it'd been in a while, did I realize it was pale; paler than normal. "Garry…"

"Ib, I'm fine." His hand reached up to encase mine, which had wandered up to his cheek. I felt him leaning into my touch nonetheless. For what the seemed like the thousandth time since I'd met him again, he grinned even though everything about him probably hurt. Just to reassure me everything would be okay.

Everything would be okay, even when he was stuck behind in the Fabricated World as I took my leave, letting him sleep. It made me think what would have happened if I never returned to him to save him, or if I hadn't helped the ant and received the seed. If I'd passed him, half consumed by the vines and still, motionless.

I was crying all over again.

"Garry, if only one of us can make it out of here again, I'll make sure it is you," I sobbed, burying my face into the rags of his jacket and resting my hands on his shoulders. They started sliding as my legs tried to give out and locked knees. Garry caught me, drawing my collapsing body closer to his chest.

"No, Ib, you have a family to go to. I have an empty apartment and a goldfish." He chuckled humorlessly, his arm tightening around me, "Well, probably not anymore."

Staying silent, I breathed in the lemony scent embedded in Garry's shirt and dwelling on the outcome of staying in the Fabricated World. No brothers or sisters; my parents would miss me, yes, but I hadn't actually seen them in a year since graduating. I was more or less out of their lives now. Not many friends, and no pets to suffer from my sudden absence. It would be okay, I resolved.

"Ib, no. I know what you're thinking. If anything, we'll get out of here together," said Garry, grasping both my hands in one of his. I felt him wince under me as he lifted his injured arm to nudge my chin up to look at him. His thumb reached up and brushed a tear away. "Okay?" This time his face was solemn and earnest, with no hint of the beam that was usually there.

Even after his reassuring words, I could neither bring myself to meet his blue eyes nor give him an agreement. Instead, his name came forth. I barely heard my voice, miserable and low, in my ears. "Garry," I repeated, slightly louder, "I-I think we should go on." Despite my stronger words, my body still felt impossible to lift. It felt as if Garry's arm was the only thing really keeping me from sprawling on the ground right now.

Nevertheless, I released the navy fabric I didn't remember winding in my grasp and wriggled away from him, miraculously still standing after his arms dropped to his sides limply. As if on second thought, they lifted again and reached for me, wrapping around my middle and pulling me closer than before. The entirety of my back was pressed not uncomfortably against his chest with only my toes touching the ground; Garry had lifted me in the air and was supporting most of my weight.

"Ib, Ib, Ib," he repeated my name, cooing it softly as he pressed his lips on my temple. "I won't let anything happen to you. We'll get out of this together."

"W-what if that girl gets hold of your rose again? What if one of us dies? Those little dolls are still little rose-knapping thieves." To my great disappointment, I was weeping all over again like I had reverted back to nine years old. Actually, my nine year old self would have stared at me blankly and wondered what the hell my problem was.

Suddenly I was turned around and Garry's lips were against mine. He had to bend over awkwardly, but I met him halfway by standing further on my toes and interlocking my fingers behind his neck.

He tasted like lemons.

I felt a blush dominate my cheeks, drying up the tears streaming down them. Garry drew away an inch or two and gazed into my eyes.

"Together."

Finally I did nod, for the first time truly believing it. Not that my look upon both of us leaving changed. It was the fact that if he couldn't leave the Fabricated World…

Neither would I.

I wouldn't be able to.

Not again.


	8. That's Not Funny

**Poll Notice** I have a poll on my profile, it lets you choose what fanfiction you want me to start/continue.

**Disclaimer**: I wish I owned kouri's Ib, but I don't, and I cry every day for it. Just kidding. But seriously.

* * *

The pink room had charred vines all about one wall, guarding a single door. A blackened portion crumbled in my fingers as I touched one.

"There are added rooms…"

"What?"

"I remember," my voice dropped to a whisper, my face screwing up to catch the fading memory that struck me. "Where I found you was the hallway just before this room. I…I burned the vines here with your lighter. There weren't this many rooms in between that hallway with the yellow roses and this room."

"So you're the one who took my lighter," mused Garry, unfazed by the proof that the world had changed. "I thought it was the dolls."

"Garry, that means the exit probably moved, too. We could be going backwards, for all we know," I explained slowly.

"Only one way to find out…" Garry muttered, brushing away the ashy plants blockading the door with ease. The rest disintegrated as my companion opened the door. With his left hand.

Broken glass. Red crayon. Charred vines. A burned painting. There was a small pile of ashes on the floor, with a palette knife on top.

"So you managed to kill the real her…" Garry mumbled to himself as he strolled towards the remains. "Perhaps that's why there's others wandering about." He sifted through the ashes and claimed the palette knife. "May as well have protection, since we left the sword in the stage."

I absently hummed in agreement as I surveyed the childish scene in front of me. A mannequin head with odd hair and painted lips, another on its side. Many of those blue dolls, some with their limbs ripped off, others decapitated with blue paint spilling out.

I bent to retrieve a sketchbook soaked with such doll blood. The picture it was open to was of a little brown haired girl with two red dots for eyes. Beside her was a blond girl with a green stick body and skirt. Her eyes were closed in what looked like happiness. They were holding hands. Paint covered the rest of the page. The page before that was of the blond in front of a house, hugging a doll. The page before, the blond with a red haired girl with blue eyes and freckles, their hands grasping each other. Another before that held a man with wavy black hair and glasses who was being embraced by the girl. It went on like that, with different people all being loved by the blonde.

Reaching the blue spattered cover, there sat an inscription in flowing, messy handwriting.

_My dearest Mary, I have poured my very soul into you. Please live on, as I have supplied you with everything to keep you from being lonely. The dolls will keep you company, the Lady in Red will have tea with you, and the mannequins will let you dress them up. I hope you will be happy. I will love you beyond death. With love, your Daddy Guertena_

I placed the sketchbook back down.

"…Where to now?"

"I don't know. You were the one that escaped, remember?"

"I suppose…" I closed my eyes tightly and attempted to chase my memories down the many trails in my mind. It was as if my time at the Gallery was behind a wall, and only a good rattle would shake loose little figments through the gapping crack in the middle. "I remember being here, and fire. So much fire. And then…there was a door in the original pink room."

"We must have missed it. Shall we?" Shyly taking his offered left hand, I nodded. As we exited the room, I stole a glance towards the end where the girl had left all her possessions scattered about in blue paint. It was if a simple kindergartener had lived here, waiting for her father to return. Perhaps they were together now.

"No door."

"What's that sound?" I released Garry's hand to try and locate the steady thumping. It was nearing.

It sounded like footsteps.

My eyes wandered to the stairs from whence we'd came. I felt Garry and I release a tense breath simultaneously when a red boll dropped into sight. It bounced down each step until rolling to be stopped by my foot. I reached and picked it up. "Where'd this come from?" It was squishy, but held its own at the same time.

"Must be a ball of paint. Last time I had to find all seven."

"Maybe it come from the stairs as a hint to look upstairs as well as down." I peered into the black darkness of the stairwell. And squealed, falling backwards in surprise.

"Ib?!" Garry caught me before I hit the floor, and I felt my hands automatically tightening around his arms as my eyes couldn't leave the snarling face painted white and blue peering from under the overhang of the ceiling. "Dear lord. What is that?"

"A clown."

X

We searched the pink room and Mary's hideout ceaselessly, but there were no doors and no balls of paint. The clown statue blocked the way upstairs. He and I finally gave up, sitting against the wall in Mary's room to chat about pointless topics like fashion and books and macarons.

"We may as well put our roses back in the vase. They're drooping." I nodded, glad to have a change in pace. Garry helped me up before exiting the room, me close on his heels. "Oh. Well. That's not good." Ducking under his arm curiously to see what was happening was a bad idea. The clown had descended the stairs to stand at the foot of the stairs, gloved hands curled into claws over his rainbow hair. His blue painted eyes were narrowed into slits, his red smile twisted into a fanged grimace. It had no nose.

After taking turns dipping our blooms into the reviving water, we sat to stare at the clown. It was moving constantly, we determined, only extremely slowly. And it seemed to be following us. At the moment it was lifting a ridiculously large shoe up to take its next step.

"Oh. Now we can go up the stairs," I pointed to the cleared pathway.

"Of course," Garry beamed as we jumped up, eager to escape the clown's glare.

As soon as my foot hit the first stair, the clown increased its speed. And it came at us fast. I felt strangely cold and clay-like arms wrap around my middle and heft my weight up like it was nothing. My toes left the platform and I stopped ascending. Noticeably, anyway. Garry was frozen, his hand outstretched and eyes wide, as if moving would set the creature off again.

"So. No more climbing stairs." I writhed and twisted my body until I slipped free of the thing's grasp. It started to unbend itself, bowing over again. Slowly. "Oh. Its nose." I searched the still-petrified Garry, withdrew the red ball from his pocket, and twisted it on the clown's face. It halted all movement and became a harmless statue once again. I beamed proudly at my calm control of the situation. The first time I handled something like that since I was nine, apparently.

"Oh noes."

"Shut up," I giggled.


	9. Broken, Fixed

**Yet Another Fluff Notice:** More fluff. Extremely cheesy fluff. Because I'm lame. I'm sorry for making it hard to easily skip without catching the plot, but who can't take a little fluff to skim through?

**Poll Notice:**_ I have a poll on my profile that lets you vote for what fanfiction you want me to continue/submit/start. Also feel free to PM me requests._

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Ib, it belongs to kouri along with the fantastical characters thatIwishwereminebutyolo.

* * *

Garry and I were strolling down corridor after pink corridor once again. After the clown reclaimed its nose, a door had popped open, ripping from the wall where it had hidden itself seamlessly. It had been right where I remembered. I could feel excitement mounting within me as we neared what I hoped was the exit; a golden door that started as a shining pinprick in the distance. We were halfway there.

Not so fast.

The blue paint wrote itself on the section of the wall we had just passed. We slowed. The writing didn't show up again until we were close enough to the door to discern the golden wood from the frame.

Good luck.

Garry tried the handle. Rattle. Taking in a sharp breath, he said, "…It's locked." He pressed his forehead against the door, his lavender locks shifting to hide his face. His shoulders rose and fell as another, slower, calming breath wracked his lanky body. "We were so close."

"It may never have been the exit anyway," I took a stab at comforting him. It didn't help.

"So where do we go now?" It was an empty question, uttered in a quiet exhale.

Down.

"I don't know," I replied quickly, hopping in front of the blue lettering that would surely plummet Garry's spirits further. "This painting looks suspicious," I continued, prodding another portrait of the blood crying man in hope. "Ick." Withdrawing caused a slime-like trail of red paint to follow my finger. It wouldn't shake off so I rubbed it back on the man's white skin. When it was wrestled off the wall by a single girl, since her companion was pressing against the door as if he could get absorbed through it by some kind of osmosis, there was nothing on the back or in the wall.

Just for kicks, I downturned my gaze to the floor. Sure enough, there was the thin black outline of a trap door.

I sighed, whispering, "We're going down further," as if to escape Garry's notice. For a second I thought it worked, but the man in the blue coat finally shifted.

"I'm tired, Ib. I'm so tired." He turned so that his back was against the door and slid to the floor, his freakishly long legs bent at awkward angles to fit in the narrow corridors. His jacket had covered his rose, but the man seemed dead to the world anyway. My fingers crawled over the cotton of his lapels to uncover the blue petals. They seemed fine, perhaps missing only one.

"Garry?"

My heart was gripped with an icy hand when he didn't respond, simply stared blankly into my eyes. I knew how to deal with the roses now. You put them in water, they make you feel better. The rose was fine, Garry should have been fine. But he wasn't. Blood shone wetly through the darkness of my scarf circumnavigating his arm loosely; the knot was barely holding. Dark circles rimmed his darker eyes; they were barely blue anymore. This was something I didn't know how to deal with.

"Garry, please, I promised you I wouldn't leave without you. Don't make me break my promise. Okay?" Panic surged through me when Garry continued to look at me listlessly. At least he saw me. At least he recognized I was trying to help. I swallowed the small sob building in my throat and placed my hands on his cheeks, keeping his gaze locked on mine. "Garry, we're going to get out of here. You're going to go back to your apartment and your poor dead goldfish and you're going to be okay." It was odd being the strong one. But once I started spouting blind guesses, I couldn't stop.

"We're going to get out of here. You're going to go tell your parents you're sorry for ignoring their calls all this time, and I'm going to tell mine I'll visit more often. Speaking of visits, we're going to see each other every…Saturday." I drew the day from my mind randomly. No time to think this through. "Eat macarons, go to cafés, see every art gallery that's not this one and laugh at how boring they are. I'm going to drive over to the city every Saturday. We just need to get out of here. Okay?"

My thoughts raced, round and round my sleep deprived brain. It made sense suddenly. Garry had been in the Fabricated World for nine painful years. Nine years of sleep, of nothing but Guertena and his make believe monsters. Nine years of Mary haunting his dreams. He was done. He couldn't go on. I could feel it now, see it. In the way he carried himself, the distant glint in his eyes. He had been ready to leave, and was holding out by hiding under a mask of sweetness and good humor, but now it was too much.

The Fabricated World finally beat him.

The horror finally outweighed hope.

His cheek barely turned red after I slapped him. His face, barely thrown to the side.

"Garry, okay?" I ground out the words through my teeth, suddenly desperate. Not wanting to slap him again, but in a thoughtless rage, I copied every cheesy movie out there.

I grabbed each side of his face in each hand and threw my lips upon his, kissing him hard enough to bruise. Anything to wake him. Anything to give him the will to live. Once it was over, I didn't want to see those empty eyes again, so I squeezed my own shut and pressed my forehead against his, leaving my fingers at his cheeks.

When, and only when my emotions were under check once again, I withdrew to see an ear-to-ear smile and shining, bright eyes.

"Kiss me like that and I'll do anything."

**Author's Notes** | Awkward placing but I just want to apologize for the extreme...fluff fest that would sadly never happen. But it needed to be done and if I couldn't add this Serendipity just wouldn't be fun to right. Besides. I could name at least two people that would enjoy this, so it was at least worth it. But for everyone else...Apologies. Onward with the plot next chapter, I promise!


	10. Tip the Scales

**Spoiler alert: **This uses a room from the bonus dungeon and shows the answers to a puzzle.

**Disclaimer: **Kouri owns Ib, I do not, kouri owns all the characters, I do not, kouri kills me with not having the first letter capitalized, and it's so tempting to change it but I don't want to screw it up so I'll suffer in near-silence. Mrfamrfmm.

* * *

"There's one."

"I lost count."

"What were we looking for again?"

"There's another."

"Oh."

"Wait, that's six…" Garry and I had been sitting in front of the spinning picture for about three minutes now, watching the figures on it go around and around. The room the trapdoor led to was small, pantry sized with no exits; the trapdoor melded into the ceiling and wouldn't be opened again. Only one thing to do now. A panel was on either side of the frame. They were looking for the two missing words in the nameplate below the moving paintings. "XXX Crows and Five XXX".

"It's snakes."

"No, fish."

"Apples?"

"Did we ever find out how many crows there were?"

"No," I groaned, flopping onto the floor. Sleep would be nice. I shook the thought from my head, struggling to sit back up. "This can't be this hard."

"Screw it," Garry exclaimed, hopping up and entering something into the panel on the left. "Ow!" From my angle, I barely saw a little needle jab out on the last key he pressed. A little drop of red welled up on Garry's finger before he stuck it in his mouth, and a blue petal drifted onto the ground. "Well. There aren't five crows."

"Here's that crow with the fish. One more round."

"I counted three," said Garry. Before I could stop him, he inputted the painful five letters. There was a click. No needle. "Ha!"

"I counted five fish," I winced as I walked up to the right panel and jabbed the keys. F. I. S. H.

Click.

"Alright."

"The nameplate changed." Sure enough, "Three Crows and Five Fish" stood out in the gold metal.

"So…where's the door?" I swept the small entirety of the room with a quick gaze, expecting the outline of a square or a knob to show up.

"Dare I ask if we should take the painting off the wall? I mean…it's moving."

"Let's try the panels," I said, not wanting to try the frame either. Bracing my feet against the wall and my back against the cool metal of the right keyboard, I pushed off as hard as I could. Garry mirrored me on the left, but seemed a lot more squashed in the tiny space. He grunted as a metallic screeching filled the room. When it stopped, I peeked over the edge of my panel to see Garry angrily staring at the empty gray wall that his had covered.

"Well that's depressing."

"Painting it is." When we revealed the wall behind the painting, which miraculously was still moving, there was still nothing there. Garry set the canvas gently against the wall as I surveyed the room bitterly. There was nothing on the other three walls. I began to check each wall peevishly, pacing back and forth in a square. Garry followed suit.

"I could use some blue helpful yet still utterly unhelpful and creepy writing about now," Garry spoke up, causing me to jump. In the broken silence, I half expected for the writing to appear as if called.

It didn't.

I stalked around the room in circle. When I reached the bottom right corner, I took notice in the smooth gray floor that was slightly lighter than the rest. "What's thi—Gah!" The floor opened into a slide that swept me off my feet into a head-long dive through jerking twists like some maniacal children's playground. "Wah!" Carpet cushioned my fall, yet did nothing to stop my painful roll into the wall. I grabbed my head and curled up into a ball, groaning. Surely my rose had lost at least two flashes of red.

"Garry? Oh Garry!" I scrambled out of the way before a flailing blue man was launched at the wall I'd just slammed into, a trail of wind-whisked petals following closely behind him. I crawled over, placing my hand on his back as he got over the nausea and vertigo that came with the demented ride, and glanced about our surroundings. It was a peach room, not quite orange. The carpet was tan and the ceiling was an odd, sickly mauve. The color scheme gave me a headache. I made sure Garry had his eyes covered.

After crouching on the carpet together for what seemed like too short a time, Garry stirred, stood, and sighed. "Is it just me, or do I see yet another hallway?"

"Another hall," I agreed, surly.

And so we walked, keeping our gazes downturned to the bristly carpet. My head had started to ache, and Garry was quieter than the norm, leading me to believe his was bothering him, too. We trudged through such silence that I could hear my heart in my ears. The beat picked up when I saw a little spot of blue at the end of the hall. As we neared it, my suspicions were confirmed.

A blue doll.

This one still had its head on its body, so hopefully it didn't hold a grudge against us. Unlike the rolling head somewhere around the world, out for my rose. Closer and closer we strolled, in no hurry to the doll. It smiled at us, unchanging and still. Perhaps it would let us out. Show us the way. Offer some break from the dull walls and silence.

As expected, blue lettering appeared on the wall when we were about five feet from the doll.

Want to make a deal?

We continued, and another splash of blue writing stained the wall as if slung there by an invisible monster.

I want a rose to put on my friend's grave.

Three feet away.

It should be blue.

Two feet.

But I'll take red.

One.

Deal?

We parted to walk around the doll, then resumed strolling side by side. An unspoken agreement was between us, there was no silly sacrificing this time. We were getting out of here today.

My fingers wandered to my rose to confirm it was still there. Reassured, my arm swung back to my side as my eyes wandered to Garry's rose; worse for the wear, but still there.

A prick of a premonition, a little seedling of doubt caused my neck to crane to the side, my eyes to slide into their corners. The doll was still there, unmoving. But something was wrong…With a jolt, I realized that it was still facing us. Even when we walked past it.

My steps hastened on their own. Garry lifted a single eyebrow, but allowed his legs to walk their normal, long spread. He'd been clipping his step length so I wouldn't have to trot to keep up.

My gaze flashed backwards once again, to see the doll the same distance away from us. It was as if we weren't covering any ground at all; or the doll was coming with us. I grasped Garry's coat sleeve and began to speed walk backwards, using my companion as a guide and anchor. Sure enough, the doll slid along the floor with us.

"This place isn't good for my mental health," muttered Garry. My eyes flicked to his, which were on the doll as well. "Walk forwards. It's just…better that way." Obeying him was a good idea; the doll made no sound as it tracked us and I could almost forget about it. My fingers encircled my rose's stem, uncaring of the small jabs they received from the thorns.

We entered a new group of rooms in a high ceilinged expansion of the halls, the same color as them. I was reminded of my headache.

"First room. Why not?"

"Yeah. And we can slam the door on that creep." The doll was still following our steps. We turned left into the first lavender door and closed it as soon as my skirt wouldn't be caught. I stepped away with Garry, watching the door, half expecting it to open again and the doll to slide on in. Thankfully, it didn't. We released a collective breath and whirled once again to face the room's wares.

There sat a golden scale on a simple table, elaborate against the plain wood. There was nothing else in the room.

"Second room?"

"Guess so," sighed Garry. When we opened the door, the doll was sitting patiently. It smiled at us and slid along as we cut across to the adjacent room. Inside there was a quill on a plate on the floor. I plucked it from its seat and put it to rest in my jacket pocket. This time when we exited the room, I nearly tripped on the doll. I hissed, fell away from it, and held my breath. Its head remained on its body.

"Thank goodness. Those things hold one hell of a grudge." Garry chuckled quietly as we stole into the next and last room. This time there was a plate strung to the ceiling on a hook and wire. When I claimed the old fashioned fountain pen off its platform, it swung gently. The doll almost tripped me again upon exiting. "Back to the scales…"

The scale room seemed too large with its one centerpiece. I placed the feather on one end and the fountain pen on the other. As expected, the pen dropped the scales in its favor. Nothing happened. I switched their sides. Again, a tip and then silence.

"Would the doll balance them?" Garry spoke up, eying the door. "No, it would be too heavy. Probably full of paint. Or hair," he shuddered.

"What about our roses?"

"Too heavy still, I think. Let me check the rooms again." I returned my full focus to the golden scales as Garry left. I heard a faint greeting to the doll from behind the shut wood. I chuckled and surveyed the scale, placing my finger on it to even the plates. Still nothing. My hand delved in my pocket to see if anything had fallen off the quill. Instead, I withdrew the four blue screws from so horribly long ago.

"Of course…" They did just the trick. There was a click as the scales balanced. When I stepped out of the room, the doll was standing at the second door and there was a new exit at the very end of the hall where there used to be an empty bookcase. "Garry?" I knocked on the door the doll was at. It smiled up at me, causing a shiver to ripple down my arms.

My heart squeezed painfully when he didn't answer right away, but a second after he emerged from the door. "No luck."

"It was the screws I had from your…Painting." I felt my eyes grow wide as I looked at Garry, really saw him. "You're the Forgotten Portrait!" I felt guilty as distrust bloomed in my thoughts like a toxic seed. This was Garry. He was a friend. Not like the Ladies or the Individuals or Mary…He was Garry. Doubt leaked into my emotions and I had to look away from his confused face in fear of him reading me. It was Garry.

But…Still…

Perhaps he was one of Guertena's works.

Perhaps I should leave alone.


	11. From Cream to White

**Poll Notice**: Poll on profile for what you want me to submit/continue/start so on and so on.

**Disclaimer: **Kouri owns Ib, I do not. I own this story, kouri does not. ...Yeah...

* * *

We were walking again. The colors of the scale's domain faded away to black as the passages became narrow. My skin itched as we were forced into touching through our progress. I felt Garry's worried gaze on me every once in a while, but not returning the look was easy. So terrified was I of spotting something that would betray him as a fake, an imposter of someone that was never actually there. It kept my eyes glued forward. The doll that still traced in our steps wasn't helping, either.

There were little inklings of aching wariness that distracted me from our escape of the Fabricated World. If Garry was a monster, would helping him to the real world be detrimental? Would he kill people? Change? Would he simply melt into a puddle of navy and lavender and blue paint? But. What if he wasn't a monster? No, what if he started human and became part of the Gallery?

I gnawed on my lower lip as these thoughts trailed after me, twisting my stomach into a nervous mess.

"Ib?" Physically jumping, I let out a small squeak of surprise before swiftly bringing my eyes to Garry. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah."

"Are you getting tired?"

"A l-little." My mouth felt dry at the lie. I was very tired. I wanted to sleep and not wake up.

We continued on in silence until the black walls bore a sconce of dimly flickering flames. There was another up ahead. The music I hadn't realized halted began again, slow, haunting, at home in the strange black hall.

Finally my frazzled nerves and spinning head couldn't take it anymore. I leaned against the wall, sidling down until my backside hit the tile. Little red flags leaped up in my mind about sleeping in front of a monster, but Garry's question had brought sleep to the forefront of my priorities. My eyes were so heavy. I let the lids slide closed.

X

When I awoke, something fluttery was against my cheek. My vision was blurry and lemon swirled about my head. I looked down, sweeping my hair behind my ear, to see a little ocean of navy. As my eyes cleared from their sleep, I realized I had been resting fully on top of Garry, who was still fast asleep. His head was tilted to the side, his hair hiding his face in shadow, his mouth popped open slightly. His unharmed arm was slung over my waist casually, the other splayed on the ground in a careful manner.

My face blanched when I felt something hard sticking into my leg.

Upon closer inspection, it was just the palette knife he'd put into his pocket. I wriggled and writhed until I was out of his grasp, holding my breath as his face scrunched up before he changed position and fell back asleep. On second thought, I fished around in his coat, withdrew the knife, and flipped his lapel over so his rose was secure under a few layers of fabric.

Then I started walking.

It was odd being alone again, with just me, the ceiling, the floor, and the paintings. My feet were still bare, and my stockings had countless runs in them. My arm ached dully after Garry's nearly medicinal optimism was absent. My palms were no longer covered by Garry's handkerchief; the pieces had probably fallen off at some point in the slide. The angry welts all over the skin reminded me with a jolt of my rose.

Still there.

One thought led to another and soon I was on the edge of panic, chasing shadows for the blue doll that had stopped following us. Well, me. I tried to recall when it had stopped creeping about, but I couldn't remember. I assured myself by holding my rose in one hand, the knife in the other, keeping close to the wall and regulating my breathing. Hysteria would not be good here. No hysteria. Just stop. Calm.

Finally, a vase sat upon a little table came into view. I excitedly dropped my rose into the liquid before hissing in bitter disappointment of the sharp pain that struck me a moment later. After withdrawing my red dripping rose, I knocked the porcelain to the ground, spilling blood all over the floor. Then a thought I'd not thought before rose in my mind. Whose blood was it?

I shook the goosebumps rising on my flesh off and continued down the black corridor until it widened once again into yet another series of doors. Actually, just two. They were both a cream color and stood one on the left, one on the right. They were mirror imagines; the knob on the leftmost one was placed on the right, and vice versa.

In between them stood an abstract. The title was _Separation_. "How off-putting," I whispered into the silent air. I chose the left door. It closed behind me before I could do it myself. When whirling around and testing the knob, it was locked. "Only one way..."

I faced my next challenge. It was a cream corridor lined with paintings from the gallery. _Fleeting Thoughts on a Moonlit Night_, _Bitter Fruits_, _Selfless Guard_, and the like perched on the walls. Between each frame was a white door. I tried the first one. Locked. The second. Locked. The first on the other side. Locked. The second on the other side. Locked.

Muttering curses at the Gallery, I stepped back and peered down the hall. The doors extended all the way through, perhaps thirty on each side. Sixty total.

The third door. Locked. And so on, I rattled each knob, the idea of tearing down all of Guertena's canvases growing more and more appealing. By the time the last two doors came, I was livid. Left door. Locked. Right door…Unlocked. "The last door. The last possible door. Of course."

Inside there laid crates and a large, melting blue statue. Upon closer inspection, it was called _Uh_. "Creative name." Keeping a wary eye on the giant thing stood about like a sad centerpiece, I started rifling through the boxes. They were mostly filled with art supplies and sketchbooks, most of them empty. Strangely enough, the ones that were written in contained the exact same contents of Mary's coloring pages.

By the time I'd searched all twelve crates, the only interesting thing I'd found was a cool looking pencil sharpener. Not very useful. The blade wouldn't even pop out. I exited the room and checked the opposite door just for fun. Still locked. "What to do now…"

One is different than the others.

The blue writing appeared out of nowhere from behind me. I couldn't find the doll that usually came with it. "A door? I checked all of them." It struck me a bit odd to be talking to magic writing…but whatever.

No.

"You are so helpful." The writing stayed unchanging after that. This run down the halls, I paid no attention to the doors, but rather the paintings. They were all in different colored frames, all different sizes, all without nameplates. Another time walking through the corridor, towards the only room that opened once again. The doors were all locked still, and all seemed to be identical. A check in the Uh room revealed that all the crates were identical, and the wares they held all had copies. Two boxes of sketchbooks, four of art supplies, six of yellowing paper.

Another exploit towards the door I entered through, still locked, I assumed. This time, I kept my eyes downturned to the cream tiles.

"Ah-hah…Thought you could fool me, did you?" said I proudly as I crouched at the pure white tile crowded against the wall between two doors and under a painting whose name I couldn't quite remember. It was loose, and came out from betwixt its brothers easily. Hiding beneath it was a small white button set in a silver metal ring. It took only a moment's hesitation before my nail pressed it down as far as it would go.

There were slamming sounds all around as the doors flew open and smashed into the wall, crushing paintings, starting at each end of the hall and running towards me at a terrifying speed. Before they hit my area, I crawled to the direct center. The four doors I was between jolted into the walls simultaneously, revealing…more wall.

When it was certain the doors wouldn't move anymore, I got to my feet and glanced around. Each door revealed milky, perfect wall, just like the plaster outside the frames. Right before the words "well, what did that accomplish," escaped my lips, my eyes hit the door at the end of the hall, pure and white as the Gallery's floors. I nearly ran to it in my rush to exit the hall, whose doors had started to swing gently back and forth on their hinges, like horizontal grass in the breeze. It was eerie.

The white door opened compliantly.

I sucked in a breath as I laid eyes on what was beyond.

**Author's Notes** | Is that a palette knife in your pocket or are you just happy to see me? (_OhmygodI'msuchanawfulperson)_


	12. Where's Ib?

**Author's Notes **| Well I have a lab report to write, but I love you all so much that I'll give you a very short, very little chapter from Garry's point of view. You're welcome. I'm going to get an F. Yeah.

**Disclaimer: **Kouri owns Ib, I do not.

* * *

Garry woke sluggishly, lightheaded for a few long moments. He rubbed his eyes, swiveling his head to the right, then left, when on some level of his tired mind it registered that something was wrong.

"Ib?" His drowsy condition abruptly melted away. "Ib!" His red companion was nowhere to be seen. Garry shot to his feet, worry festering in his mind. "Where are you?!" He swung to look behind him. Nothing but wall. Forward it was. The floor made deafening clacking sounds as Garry moved as quickly as his feet could take him, slowing to a jog as he ran out of breath, then a clipped walk.

"Where could she have gone?" said the man to himself. "I know she's been acting strange lately…but she wouldn't have gone off on her own. She must have been taken by a doll…They're so creepy." Unknowingly, his stride grew faster despite his lack of proper air. "Oh no…" Garry could feel his heart in his throat as he came upon a great puddle of blood stretching from wall to wall. Shattered remains of something made small ripples in it.

"W-" His breath stuck in his throat. "W-where is the b—Where is she?" He couldn't bring himself to say "body". He still had hope. He continued rushing down the halls.

X

"Ib!" Garry cried for the umpteenth time. His voice had grown hoarse, his steps dragging, his body slouching, haggard. The loss of the girl was taking its toll. He had nothing to live for, nothing to look forward to except finding her…dead, in the hands of some blue doll cult that he'd take pleasure in ripping apart, limb by thieving limb. There would be no more promise of reunion. There would be no more meeting every week to eat macarons together, no more talking, no more laughing even though everything was collapsing around them.

He almost didn't want to leave any more.

"Ib…" Garry came upon a room that held two doors; both were striped black and white. Each had a knob that was placed inwards towards the painting. That dreaded, godforsaken picture.

Separation.

The red and black canvas that foretold their parting the last time. Now there was no doubt in Garry's mind. She was gone. He felt depression take hold of him with its clawed hand as he staggered to a door. His hand numbly reached for the knob.

Rattle. It was locked.

He strode to the other door, on the other side of the painting. He twisted the knob awkwardly, as he had to use his left hand and the knob was to the left. His sleeve caught on the door frame, but nevertheless the door opened into a dark hallway. When he stepped in, the wood slammed back into the frame behind him.

"Only… one way…"

X

After Garry exited the room with the red Ah statue, blue writing appeared on the wall near the door.

One is different.

"What, paintings?"

No.

"Doors?" It stayed no.

"Can you help me?" No remained. "Fine." Garry turned his attention towards the hall, the black and white door he'd come from outlined in brown far away. A brown ceiling. Paintings and doors took turns occupying the walls. Brown tiles covered the floor. "Oh." Sure enough, as Garry moved across them, about halfway down the hall, a black tile showed itself.

He stepped on it, then trotted towards the black and white door. Still locked. He returned, and tried to pry the tile up. It came without grief. Below was a black button outlined in gold. Garry pressed it. The doors that had been locked shot from their closed positions, all but the black and white one. The slabs of wood then started moving gently in some kind of invisible wind that Garry couldn't feel.

He tried the black and white door once again. Locked. He worried he'd missed something from the other door, the left one, before he turned to see a new door, a deep black, on the other side of the hallway. Its visage caused a chill to run down his spine and his thoughts soured as he thought of Ib again. She could be behind it.

He stalked past the waving doors and took firm hold of the black handle of the door and twisted.


	13. The Abyss of the Deep

**Disclaimer: **Kouri owns all, I own nothing.

**Poll Notice**: Poll on my profile, you can vote for what fiction you want moar of.

**End Notice**: Second to last chapter, guys! Been having a great time writing for you! SO SO sorry about not updating for a while. Been busy as hell's bells this last week or so and I have another week of finals. Next update may be next weekend...Sooo sorry. But enjoy this!

* * *

A cool gust of air brushed past me as the door swung the rest of the way open. Blue rays of light leaked to dance on my skin, rippling over the red of my dress and turning it purple. Beyond was an eternity of azure, fading into darkness below and light above. As I stepped closer, the breeze hastened into a wind and I felt my hair being lifted and whipped about my cheeks.

My toes searched for the floor as I edged even closer, but there was only empty space.

As if hypnotized, I inched towards the edge, further and further.

Until I fell.

My scream ripped from my throat in a flurry of...bubbles. The more I thrashed, the slower I fell, until my limbs caught rhythm and I began swimming.

Water.

The final hardy remains of my stockings slipped off as my legs kicked smoothly, my jacket flapping with the small currents my arms made. Finally, I paused my motions to slip it off, only in a dress I continued. By the time I reached the door, my lungs were burning from the stale breath battling to escape them. Black fireworks blocked my vision as my hands fumbled for the doorframe. Pure, solid wood. No knob. No opening.

I banged the heel of my palm against the door, struggling against the urge to faint.

At the final second, I couldn't help sucking in a breath. Instead of water flooding my mouth like I expected, my lungs expanded with oxygen. It was like the mystery blue paint I could breath in as I could've before when I first entered the Fabricated World. With the first priority of breathing taken care of, I could figure out a way to open the door. Or figure out why I couldn't.

Brunette locks blocked my view as my body twisted in the ocean I was suspended in, glancing around for any kind of switch or key. The blue went on endlessly on each side, and darkness took over below. It was nearly pure white above. I wasn't a strong swimmer. Even now my limbs were burdened with fatigue. There was no possible way of swimming that far.

My fingers tangled in my hair restlessly as I tried to clear it from floating about willy-nilly.

A black door came into sight, a few lengths to the left of my own white door. My legs propelled me faithfully, and soon I was searching for a knob. Again, none. There wasn't even an overhang that I could float on for a while to rest. I took another deep breath, careful not to take the air for granted. It was all so unreal to be swimming in the air.

I continued sliding along the walls, searching with increasing desperation for a switch or button that would turn the floor on or some other convenient object. Or gravity. Gravity would be nice. When paired with the floor, even nicer.

I blew out another burst of bubbles that danced towards what I assumed was the surface high, high above. Once more, and this time my eyes followed the gleaming little pockets of air until they were too small to identify. Before then, they traveled a long time, a longer distance.

Such a beautiful surface.

Light filtered through the water.

I could feel it rippling on my body, see it in a diamond pattern on a raised arm, feel the warmth drain as I drifted.

Drifted down.

Into oblivion.

The deep black that soon swallowed the blue. Another, single bubble escaped my lips as they popped open.

My legs were so tired from walking endless corridors.

My eyes were so heavy.

I closed them.

Through the darkness of my lids, I heard an odd sound.

It sounded like the pop of a bubble, or my name, or a distant marine call.

It was the latter.

Only it wasn't distant.

As I turned to investigate, I saw it.

The creature from _The Abyss of the Deep_.

My limbs didn't feel so tired anymore.

With a burst of adrenaline I brought my arms down hard and thrashed my legs just as energetically, escaping the sweet, cool darkness that sleep promised along with the bottom of the abyss. The fish was a pitch shape in the darkness below, moving in a smooth flow back and forth, occasionally letting out a gentle sound.

I ripped my gaze from beneath me and focused on the doors once again, banging on my own before moving to the black door. Before I could so much as knock, it swung open.

And there stood Garry.

Before I could think to stop him, he had stepped forward and was caught in the odd water-air of the room. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving a trail of bubbles much like his released breath. His eyes were wide; I say both because his hair was floating about like mine, revealing twin blue irises almost as perfect as the sea of paint.

"You can breath," I attempted to say, but it came out in a mush of sound and bubbles. In example, my mouth opened wide, taking in a lungful of watery air (or was it airy water?) and forcing a smile. "It's ok," I mouthed. My lips downturned as the revelations from before caught up to sleep-deprived brain. How long had it been since I slept? Surely not that long.

Still...Garry. He gave a few experimental kicks in the would-be water, glancing about in awe as I fumed, biting my lip, hard, and tasting blood before I realized how foolish it was. Luckily, the air wasn't diffused with red like I half-expected. Garry. It was so difficult, so unsure. Do I let him leave? My eyes wandered below, unable to help myself. The creature of the Deep still lurked, a dark behemoth half-hidden in shadow. It would be easy. It would be easy to leave him here. So easy.

Yet I wouldn't want to leave. My torn emotions battled a silent war as Garry repeated my actions from before; checking the wall for any kind of lever.

How could I leave Garry here? Even if he was a painting, unreal, fake, my feelings for him were anything but. He was a humongous part of my life, since I was nine. We'd been through so much. But what if it was all a ruse? A way to capture my emotions and use me as a simple doorway out? My eyes squeezed shut as confusion waged war against reason.

He was a painting. I saw him. At the gallery. A painting. That was all he was.

When I slowly allowed my vision to return, my gaze was hardened in resolve.

I would leave without him.

I would escape the Fabricated World.

Without him.

But first, I would use him, just as he was using me, to escape. My waves caught the man's attention, and he took long, practiced strokes to reach my floating form. I pointed up, towards the sturdy light, and performed limp swimming motions. I wasn't a strong swimmer; never was, never would be. He seemed like a natural. Reaching the top would take him perhaps five minutes when I would be exhausting myself for an hour. He seemed to understand and took my wrist before kicking strongly, letting the black and white doors sink below my vision. The creature of the Abyss remained in the darkness.

Garry continued on, and, sure enough, he reached the surface in no time at all. Above the water level was what seemed to me like pure oxygen. It rushed to my head and felt sickening. My companion seemed to be stricken as well, and winced, holding his breath. We stayed like that, weakly treading water and taking slow breaths before our senses returned.

The Guertena Gallery greeted us with pure, white walls.


	14. Blood

**Author's Notes** | Here be it guys, the final chapter. Loved writing for you all!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Ib, kouri-dearest does.

* * *

"We're back," Garry gasped in disbelief at the stark walls encompassing us. It was the main room of the Guertena Gallery, complete with cheesy help-desk stacked with pamphlets no one actually took. My companion scrabbled out of the inky pool we still floated in, trailing blue paint all over the clean floors. It dripped thickly from the edges of his coat until he stood in his personal puddle, reaching a hand towards me.

"T-thank you." As he drew me out of the substance, my fingers instinctively went to my rose in the folds of fabric. None. All there was was the cool, metal surface of the palette knife. "I-is your rose missing, too?"

"Yes," Garry exclaimed, checking his jacket multiple times, delving his hands into each pocket excessively. "Maybe things in the Fabricated World stay there. Only things from the real world can come back up. What do you think?"

"I don't think that's quite true," I whispered, nerves a frayed mess. My hand stayed hidden, wrapped around the handle of the weapon behind me.

"What? Oh, I wonder if the door is locked..." He left me standing still as a statue, intaking shallow breaths. My head felt too light, my body too heavy.

It had to be done.

It had to be done.

Oh, God, why did it have to be done?

But I couldn't release one of the horrors of Guertena on the world.

No, I couldn't.

It had to be done.

"Hey, the doors really are still locked," Garry broke my inner musing with his sour observation.

"What a shame. Come here. Let me...L-look at your arm. See if it healed." Breath in. Out. In. Look natural. Keep the knife hidden. He walked towards me, face trusting.

"I'm sure it's fine."

"Watch out for the A-Abyss."

"What?"

"Y-you're about to st-step into it."

"Oh! Thanks. Here, it isn't that ba-Ib, why do you have that?" Suddenly Garry didn't appear too trusting.

He looked scared.

My hand shook, still wrapped tightly around the hilt of my tiny sword. Even as it was buried into something.

Garry's eyes were wide.

Blood welled at a corner of his mouth, not quite enough for gravity to take affect and drag it down his chin.

I felt sick as some warm substance leaked over my fingers, gushing to hit the floor with a wet _drip, drip, drip_.

My gaze stayed locked with his.

"I-Ib..."

Then a realization hit me.

It hit me like a ton of bricks.

I felt them on my chest, squeezing the breath out of me.

My lungs wouldn't work.

Staring into Garry's eyes, then down at his chest, where I'd drove the knife in, deep, I realized.

I realized it too late.

Too late.

I realized that the paintings didn't bleed.

"Garry..."

"Ib? Oh, good, you're awake. You had me worried there for a second. Guess the real world hit us a bit hard. I think I fainted for a few seconds myself."

Disorientated. That was a good word. Disorientated.

"Garry?"

"Hey."

Just a second ago he was bloodied. Now his face shone cleanly, minus a few smears of blue paint. His eyes were still wide and blue and trusting and full of fondness. My trembling fingers made their way into my vision. Clean. A dream. It was just a dream.

And here was Garry.

He was real.

He was alive.

He bled, he felt, he was everything.

"Ib? Are you okay? You're crying."

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm just so happy..."

"I am, too. I wonder if the door is unlocked. Can you stand?" I was disorientated once again as my body started lifting before I realized it was in Garry's arms.

"Yeah." Numbly, my feet carried the rest of me alongside Garry, careful to avoid the blue splashed spattered about the floor. He kept a firm hand around my shoulders, as if he was afraid to let go.

The door was unlocked.

Outside the sun shone, and the streets gleamed as if a rain had recently swept through the city. There were birds tweeting, and cars honking, and the beautiful, beautiful sound of people. Actual, real life people.

We had escaped.

Together.

"Hey, Garry."

"Yeah?"

"Let's stop by a cafe for some macarons."

* * *

**Author's Notes(**Again) | So this is it. Thank you for the following, and reviewinging, and favoriting, you guys are amazing! But alas, now I need a new project, so send a PM my way with WHATEVER you want! I will take any and all requests. Honestly guys, writing is a lovely thing to do and I live to please. Send requests my way for any thing you could dream of!

And so Serendipity is complete.


End file.
